


Not James Bond

by AnnaofAza



Series: Hartwin Week [3]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Based on a song, M/M, Making Martinis, Never Leave the Room Angry, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 06:21:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4614528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaofAza/pseuds/AnnaofAza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I really do want to be a Kingsman, Harry,” Eggsy then admits softly. “Saving people, that would be nice.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not James Bond

**Author's Note:**

> [Here's the song!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ObmXBy2IyaM)

_“Double-oh-seven: Britain’s finest secret agent! License to kill, mixing business with girls…and thrills!”_  
  
Harry pauses in his stirring, ice cubes giving a final crackle as they settle at the bottom. “What is this?” he flatly asks.

Before his fingers could touch the dial, Eggsy eagerly interrupts with a hurried, “No, this is brilliant! Listen to it, Harry!”

_“I see you walk the screen; it’s you that I adore. Since I was a boy, I wanted to be like Roger Moore…”_

Eggsy begins to sing along, and even though he’s horrendously out of tune, his shoulders move rhythmically from side-to-side as the piano plays and the lead singer croons. Harry absentmindedly notices that he’s begin swirling the shaker to the beat, foot tapping on the tiles. Harry’s now beginning to hum under his breath when the volume increases, as Eggsy moves around the kitchen, feet unable to keep still. His eyes are lit up in pleasure, and when he turns to face Harry, Eggsy grins, with a tiny tip of his cap.

Mouthing the chorus furiously, he nearly slams Harry’s martini shaker into the counter three times in his frenzied movements. Harry frowns in disapproval, crossing the room to clap his hands over Eggsy’s to keep him from jostling it overly. “You don’t want to bruise the gin.”

Eggsy rolls his eyes, but begins to swirl the shaker in exaggerated movements. “Better?”

“Much.” Harry steps away, fingers sliding away from where they rested on Eggsy’s cooling hands. He puts the container down and opens the fridge, taking out a container with red olives. Reaching for the toothpicks in one of the upper cabinets, Harry says, “Lee once asked Merlin if he’d play James Bond’s theme on his first mission. Of course, Merlin said no. Too much distraction, just like texting while driving. So Lee had to settle for changing his ringtone.”   
  
Eggsy’s stopped his stirring, ears eager for hints of a father he hardly knew. “Really?”  
  
“Your father had a humorous side,” Harry says dryly, removing the chilled glasses from the freezer. “But when you become Kingsman, that side has to be sidelined for the time. Joking around can cause serious consequences if you’re not observant and careful.”   
  
_If,_ he inwardly corrects.  _If you become Kingsman._  
  
But Eggsy’s already grinning widely, unscrewing the cap and positioning it over the closest martini glass. “Right. When I become Kingsman, I’ll be right serious, no doubt about it.”   
  
Harry immensely doubts that, but he offers Eggsy a wry smile as the band enthusiastically sings, _“I’ve a license, I’ve a license, I’ve a license…to thrill!”_

“I’m happy you’ve made it this far, Eggsy,” he continues, sliding two olives onto his toothpick. He places it on top of his drink, watching the other man copy his motions. “You have remarkable skill, perseverance, and loyalty. There’s so much you can do as a Kingsman.”

“ _Wanted to be you, I wanted to be you, I wanted to be someone else…”_  
  
“I really do want to be a Kingsman, Harry,” Eggsy then admits softly. “Saving people, that would be nice.” He looks down at his hands. “I wish I’ve done more for m’mum and Daisy. You were right, Harry. I could have gotten a proper job and moved them from under Dean’s thumb—I could have—”  
  
“No, Eggsy,” Harry interrupts. “You can’t concern yourself of what might have been.” He continues, “Every Kingsman agent has a…salary, of sorts. A rather healthy one, at that. It’s enough to buy a decent flat in a good neighborhood.”

Eggsy’s thinking hard. “Can I…can I tell them?”

“No,” Harry says immediately. “Our agency relies on secrecy, and if someone happened to find out who you were, they’d go after who you care for most.” He begins putting the supplies away, martini untouched. Eggsy helps, knuckles brushing his as he places the gin in the refrigerator. The song is ending, but Eggsy’s long since stopped paying attention.

Turning off the radio, Harry gestures for Eggsy to sit down on the couch. Eggsy puts his feet on the coffee table, then immediately plants them firmly on the floor. He’s taken off his shoes at some point, and his feet are pale like Harry’s own—probably doesn’t go barefoot that often. Their arms nearly touch.

“Mum didn’t know,” Eggsy says. “She didn’t know, and the…wanting, it—” He hesitates. “It drove her mad.”

Harry remembers their conversation in the Black Prince. “She did not react well when you were going into the army, no? Imagine what it would be like if she knew the truth.” He takes a small sip of his martini. “We try our best to limit causalities, but every moment in a Kingsman’s life is a dangerous one. There’s not just bombs and guns and martinis. There’s intrigue, maneuvering, lying…many Kingsman don’t form attachments.” He doesn’t look at Eggsy. “Like music, like texting in the car, your loved ones are going to be distractions and worries, always in the forefront of your mind.”

For a while, Eggsy is silent. “I can’t imagine that. Living without…” He pauses. “My father married, and had me. I hope I can…never mind.”

“He was a fine agent.” Harry looks at Eggsy, fiddling with his medallion. “He loved his family. He always missed his wife and son. Lee once told me that you always greeted him with a hug whenever he came home.”

_If only I knew, if only I had patted down the suspect, Lee would have been here. Perhaps Eggsy could have lived a better life, one where he didn’t need an escape from. Or perhaps Lee would have recommended him for a position, and he’d be offering advice and drinking martinis with his son._

Eggsy’s voice is choked. “Yeah. I…” Harry subtly places his handkerchief on the table, but Eggsy wipes his face with his sweater sleeve. He’s trying his best to not look at Harry or give away his emotions, but the tremble of his shoulders betray him. Laying one hand on Eggsy’s shoulder, Harry lets him cry.

Opening a box on the coffee table, Harry then passes his spare key to Eggsy. “If you need a place to rest, my home is open to you.”

Eggsy takes it, fingers skimming Harry’s palm. They’re rough and calloused from training, with a faint softness. “Thanks, Harry.”

Harry nods. “I’ll always be here to help you.” He then raises his martini glass for a toast. “Best of luck tomorrow, Eggsy. I believe in you.”

Eggsy grins. It makes the dimple near the corner of his mouth more prominent, and his eyes squint the tiniest bit, as his lips pull back widely to reveal his teeth.

For a moment, Harry pauses in raising his glass, watching light fall over Eggsy’s face and that ridiculously bright yellow jacket. Eggsy’s red-rimmed eyes meet his, and mimics Harry’s movement.

“Thanks,” Eggsy replies, lightly touching his glass to his.

* * *

Getting ready to board a plane to Kentucky, Harry’s fists are still clenched in anger, heart racing so quickly that it’s painful. Eggsy’s staring after him, face heartbroken and stunned, standing in the middle of the room. The radio Harry’s left on is playing a familiar song, and he viciously storms past, hoping Eggsy would turn it off.

Merlin’s telling him locations and instructions as Harry packs the last of his weapons. Eggsy is still on his feet, and Harry nearly knocks his shoulder as he walks past him. 

“Lock the door behind you,” he snaps, as a goodbye.

As he slams the door behind him, Harry hears the end of the song playing, desperate and wistful: _“And I wish I was James Bond…just for the day…”_


End file.
